Escapades of a Writer and the King of Nightmares
by FateMagician
Summary: This is a story where I, FateMagician, am enlisted by Man in Moon to help a certain Nightmare King. How I am to do this, I have no idea. I am using Ombric from the chapter books by William Joyce, but I don't think it's enough to call for a crossover.
1. A Favor Collected

Greetings ladies and gentleman, I am FateMagician, commonly called 'Fate' since 'FateMagician' is a bit of a mouthful apparently, and welcome to my first official Rise of the Guardians fan fiction! (That is not a one-shot!)

Muse: You love being dramatic sometimes don't you?

I can't help it. That's my Muse by the way, he's the one who gives me fountains of inspiration and genius. And the one who also drains it at times. A moody creature, my Muse is.

Back to the main point, welcome to the story. This will be covering my encounters with our fearsome King of Nightmares, Pitch Black, who also has no idea I'm writing this which I am writing because my Muse won't let me think much about anything else.

Muse: You need to write this because it's a good story! Besides, I'm not letting you write your original story for reasons you know and I'm throwing you a bone.

I know that! Anyway, here's a shout-out to **Fantasydreamer244** , who also has had her fair share of adventures with Pitch, not to mention she's also gotten into quite a bit of trouble with the Norse God of Mischief, Loki. (And has also given me her blessing for this story.)

Muse: Great stories, both of them! I highly recommend them to anyone as a fun read!

I agree whole-heartedly! Now, onto the first chapter/prologue of The Escapades of a Writer and the King of Nightmares!

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 **Escapades of a Writer and the King of Nightmares**

 **Chapter 1: A Favor Collected**

A beam of moonlight shined down from between the blackout drapes of an apartment office, lighting up a particular wooden board. On that board there were runes of age past that bordered it, and at that moment the nimble hands of a young woman were placing playing cards with a steampunk background design on the board.

It was a game, but at the same time it wasn't. She laid down a hand of five cards before her, and then three face-up cards above the hand. A look at the cards in her hand, and then placed some in pairs with the three and an ace separate. The young woman repeated the same set up five more times, sometimes putting separate pairs down, combining with the three face-up, or no cards would go down at all.

But while also playing this 'game', she always wrote down numbers on a separate piece of paper, sterling grey eyes faintly showing an intensity as she write each number. Once six sets of numbers were down, she added them up and separated each number.

1, 4, 2.

The young woman softly sighed and then placed face-down the last four cards of the deck. With a hand she parted one drape more so the moonlight shone more visibly, the light gleaming on her thin, black-rimmed glasses. In a whisper she said, "I have written the one-shot, as you asked for per the favor I owed you, and now we see the most likely result of me posting it." She flipped the cards over, bottom left to right, then top left to right.

Four of Diamonds, Three of Hearts; Jack of Spades, Jack of Clubs. A total of 29.

After applying the number to an algorithm specifically created for the 'game', the total was then 86.

The young woman groaned and lightly glared at the moon, her dark-brown hair, cut in a shaggy A-line and its swept bangs fell over her right eye. "There is an eighty-six percent chance that after I post it, the Nightmare King will find out within the month." The moon seemed the shine a bit brighter at her words, and she replied with a small grin. "But of course, that's what you want don't you? You want this one-shot to _attract_ Pitch's attention, and then for _him_ to find _me_."

She tilted an ear slightly towards the moon as she listened. The young woman frowned slightly after a few moments.

"You know my condition, Tsar Lunar, since you did bribe my Muse. As much as I agree with you that Pitch Black needs help, he also has to want it and ask me for it in order for me to give it. The one-shot I created with the memories you have shown me will attract his attention, but I still hold my doubts on the value of _my_ help."

Another small grin appeared on her features when she heard something she liked.

"Very well, I'll leave things in Fate's hands for now. I believe I can put some hope in the future you want Pitch to have."

With that, the young woman closed the blackout drapes fully, shutting off the moonlight and leaving the tall lamp in the corner the only source of light. Her fingers typed away on her Surface Pro, softly tapping the screen as she selected things. A yawn escaped her when she was done, her body demanding that she finally go to sleep. The young woman stood up, having been wearing her most comfortable light pajamas since the sun set, and she then made her way to her bed. Once comfortable, she took off her glasses and placed them in their case on her nightstand before leaning up and turning off the tall lamp.

Some shifting of bed covers was heard in the darkness, and a sigh accompanied her next words.

"Either way, favor or not, I am going to pay for writing that."

* * *

There we are. The stage has been set, and I no longer owe Man in Moon a favor. You may learn later why I owed him in the first place. Maybe.

Muse: Fair warning, I dictate her writing schedule, but we'll let you know why we missed a week when a new chapter is posted. Besides that, expect a chapter once a week. Now wish my writer good luck when Pitch finds her...

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DreamWorks owns Rise of the Guardians, William Joyce own Guardians of Childhood, my Muse owns me.


	2. The Word of a Wizard and Friend Given

I shall start this with a great big thank you to **Fantasydreamer244** for the first favorite, follow, and review on this story! Thank you (and I probably shouldn't since I know you get hyper off of sugar) you've earned a cookie: (::)

Muse: Now you've done it...

Anyway, and this is to the readers who have read this story so far: I'm shocked that you think I'm psychic and know what your reactions were. The review button exists for a reason. Reviews make me happy, chapters are written faster, and reviewers get cookies!

Muse: There is something called 'story stats' that is tabbed under 'traffic stats', so we know you're reading.

With that over, here's the next chapter, right on schedule!

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 **Escapades of a Writer and the King of Nightmares**

 **Chapter 2: The Word of a Wizard and Friend Given**

 _Two Weeks Later…_

"What were you thinking FateMagician?!"

The young woman in question sneezed in reply as Ombric, one of the greatest wizards in history and the last survivor of Atlantis, berated her after finding out about the story she posted a while back. She was also just recovering from a mild cold that had irritated her to no end for the past week.

"That's _exactly_ it old friend, _I wasn't_." Sarcasm was clearly in her words. "I was repaying a favor I owed Tsar Lunar!"

"Have you no notion of the consequences? Of what _Pitch_ will do to you if he finds out?"

" _When_ , not _if_."

That stopped the old wizard short before he could continue. "What?"

FateMagician, commonly nicknamed 'Fate', leaned back into her chair as she readjusted her glasses so they sat properly on the bridge of her nose. Her tone spoke absolute seriousness. " _When_ Pitch finds out, there is no _if_. Ombric, the one-shot is supposed to attract his attention and it's what Tsar Lunar wants."

The wizard took a minute to process what she just said, and when he did he replied softly, "You will be put in so much danger Fate. Pitch, even though he was dragged moon-knows-where by his own Nightmares after his defeat by the Guardians and Jack Frost two years ago, is still a dangerous Spirit. He can hurt you Fate, and," he cleared his throat a little, " _when_ he finds out about this little story of yours, he will come with the intent to harm you."

Fate nodded in agreement. "I know what I'm getting into old friend, the risks are known to me as well as the danger to myself. But," She gave a reassuring smile to the old wizard. "Believe in me, and believe that I will be fine."

Ombric sighed deeply. Belief; the strongest force on earth, held by everything in existence. With belief, even the impossible can become possible. He began to pace in the kitchen of his former student's studio apartment, eyes on the walnut hardwood flooring. Fate knew he was thinking things through, and very thoroughly. Knowing he would talk when he was done, she returned her attention to her breakfast of cream of wheat with strawberries.

It felt good to have an appetite for most things after being sick for so long.

She wasn't terribly worried about her current situation at the moment, as was her normal _nonchalant_ disposition. Being a fatalist does help with that. A small smile formed on her lips as she remembered the _real_ Fate. She was on good terms with the Spirit, who had a fetish for doing little things to troll people, and FateMagician was not exempt from it.

She'd lost count of how often she had taken her glasses off, forgot where she put them, and then after searching for them finally find them in the most obvious spots.

"Alright Fate, I guess there is nothing I can do to stop you."

Fate raised her head up from her food and watched Ombric carefully with sterling-grey eyes. The old wizard continued.

"Favor or otherwise, it seems you want to do this and Man in Moon appears to have approved of whatever plan you've concocted. I'll believe in you."

Fate smiled at him, and Ombric couldn't help but return it. He didn't like it, but it seemed there wasn't anything he could do about it but hope that she would be okay. _After all_ , he smiled a little wider at his thoughts, _if I can't do anything then the Guardians surely could_. He turned towards the large mirror Fate kept next to her fireplace in the adjoined living space that sat at a lower elevation. She often used it to travel to other places where she had put a matching mirror.

The old wizard tapped a few of the many runes that were carved into the frame of the mirror, and before he could step through Fate called out to him.

"Before you go, I want you to give me your word as a wizard and my friend that you will _not_ tell anyone, especially the Guardians, about what Tsar Lunar and myself have planned involving the Nightmare King. No telling, no hints of any sort. Let them find out on their own, _if they can_."

That last bit sounded like a challenge, and Fate knew Ombric couldn't resist a good challenge. The old wizard had been stopped dead in his tracks as was stock still, and Fate took the opportunity to add, "And Ombric, I want Pitch to trust me. Bringing the Guardians into this will only make it worse, and if they were to show up he would see the situation as a trap. He might already think of it as a potential trap, but I don't want him to come to the conclusion that it is, when it never was. Please understand that old friend."

She had challenged him as a wizard, and was now appealing to him as a friend. Ombric deeply sighed, shoulders slightly slumping in defeat. He didn't want to potentially jeopardize the hard-earned trust Fate had in him, as it was something precious to her.

"Very well, FateMagician. On my word as a wizard and as one of the few lucky enough to call you a friend, no one shall know about what is to transpire through any word or action of mine."

She nodded, satisfied with his promise as she leaned back into the barstool she sat on more comfortably, and Ombric touched the glass of the mirror and watched it ripple from his fingers before walking into it, disappearing completely. Fate also watched the mirror as the last of the ripples faded from its surface, returning to its normal solid state.

Fate smiled again as she returned to her breakfast. _Good. I don't want Pitch to believe that I am simply leading him into a trap set by the Guardians. In order for me to help him, he must trust me as I must trust him._

She paused at that last part, and then snickered lightly.

 _An interesting challenge, as it seems we share if not the same level of trust issues._

* * *

I know. You want to see Pitch.

...

Next chapter.

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DreamWorks owns Rise of the Guardians, William Joyce owns Guardians of Childhood, my Muse owns me.


	3. The Hunt Begins

Muse: Our sincerest apologies for not uploading a new chapter last week. You see, we recently moved to a new home in a new location and haven't had internet until late today. Better late than never, as they say...

Yes, we are very sorry, but please enjoy this new chapter to _The Escapades of a Writer and the King of Nightmares_!

* * *

 **Escapades of a Writer and the King of Nightmares**

 **Chapter 3: The Hunt Begins**

 _Later That Week…_

"I can finally breathe through my nose!"

Female laughter was heard from the phone on the desk, which was on speaker.

"You make it sound like you solved global warming Fate."

Fate, who had done a minor celebration at being no longer sick, paused and said in an all serious tone, "Tiger, you and I know both know how to solve global warming, and so does anyone else with any common sense and bothers to listen to it. Atmosphere carbon levels are rising, we have the ice from the poles and line charts to prove it."

"Did you just mention _science_ Fate? You, the prodigal rune mage of the twenty-first century?"

Fate sighed lightly at Tiger's teasing. "You make me sound like a paradox!"

"Because you essentially _are_ one." Fate could practically sense the smirk over the phone.

"Tiger, science and magic aren't so different that they are incompatible. I believe North makes an excellent example of that."

"… Point taken. By the way, have you seen any of the Guardians lately?"

"Nope, but Ombric visited earlier this week when he heard I was sick."

"That's nice of him!"

Fate nodded in agreement, and even though it was a white lie she hated doing it to her best friend that has stuck by her side longer than anyone. But for her safety, Tiger couldn't know about the real reason of Ombric's visit, as it would lead to a lot of explaining on Fate's part. Shaking the thoughts from her head, she continued to type on her Surface as she asked, "How's your Air force training camp experience so far?"

That was a safe change of conversation, and Tiger then went on about the other cadets and the various stories she had personally been a part of. Apparently, strange things do happen at a military camp.

"So, I should be home when Christmas time come around. Am I allowed to crash at your place?"

Fate scoffed through her nose in an exaggerated manner. "You would walk in here, somehow bypassing my security runes, and claim the guest bedroom anyway. Nothing I can do to stop you."

More laughter over the phone speakers, and they both said their goodbyes when Tiger was called away to kitchen duty. Leaning back into her office chair, Fate sighed in relaxation and happy feelings, then disconnected her Surface from its keyboard and held it portrait-style as she looked over her most recent work.

As a writer, she was basically living what was called the 'starving artist route'. So, other than working on original works, she was also an editor, currently working for a small photography company that had recently gained a lot of popularity as their chief blog editor.

Nodding in satisfaction, Fate approved the work to be posted on the site. She stood and stretched a bit, having been doing work, and sitting in that chair, for over three hours. Break time was needed, as well as food. As she turned the corner to enter the kitchen, a smaller black form jumped her and almost brought her to the ground with the force behind the speed. Looking down, she saw the one creature that has never left her side through thick and thin her entire life.

Karer (care-er) was a Western Mana Dragon, having scales that were shiny black with random brown diamond patterns and covered in the same Elder Futhark runes Fate used, of which the silver intensity of them depended on his mood. Right now, they were very intense.

The one foot tall, three foot long dragon then proceeded to use his forked tongue to lick Fate's chin before climbing up and draping himself across her shoulders, nipping her earlobe to show his usual affection. Fate smiled and rubbed the scale above his nose to reciprocate the affection, the smile widening when she felt the deep rumbling on her shoulder coming from Karer.

"Alright buddy, let's go make me some food."

The dragon licked her chin again and laid his head across her collarbone as Fate snatched a box of Creamy Kraft Mac 'n Cheese from the pantry.

Starving Artist Route. One often has little say in what they get to eat most months.

Once the Mac 'n Cheese was in a bowl, Fate sat in a barstool at the counter and pulled out her phone, checking for updates while stabbing her fork into the bowl as to get food on it and then into her mouth. It seemed that the one-shot, posted nearly three weeks ago, was steadily gaining popularity on the site.

Good.

 ** _Now In A Certain Lair In Burgess…_**

Pitch Black had finally regained control over his Nightmares, and now they feared him as they always should have.

A faint shudder ran through him when he remembered certain events that happened a little over two years ago. After his traitorous had Nightmares dragged him back down into the lair and sealed off the entrance, all he could see was darkness. All he could sense was _his own fear_. It had taken him a year to overcome those particular fears, and it took another to be able to even keep the Nightmares at bay, and now he had complete control over them once again.

Revenge; oh how he wanted to make the Guardians, particularly Jack Frost, _pay_.

Yet, something else told him that he wouldn't succeed a second time. Not so soon after his previous defeat anyway. Careful planning was what was needed now. Impatience assaulted him briefly, but Pitch managed to shove it aside. He could wait another three centuries to get revenge on the Guardians.

Prior experience had taught him a lot on the subject of patience.

He looked around his liar and properly saw the poor, decrepit state of it. _That's because very few, if any, children believe in you. The Boogeyman is now just a bad dream._ He snarled at the thoughts, but they were true as much as he hated to admit it. He began to voice his thoughts to the still air, Nightmares moving, yet staying, in the shadows.

"Now, let's see how the world has changed since I was… _away._ "

A few whinnies came from the Nightmares, but Pitch ignored them as he melted into shadow, emerging in an alleyway in in the urban neighborhoods of Burgess. Not much had actually changed in the city in his eyes. People seemed a little bit older, but that was about it. He wandered through the city, hidden in shadow obviously. Pitch didn't want to be physically reminded that people didn't see him and walked through him because of their disbelief.

Eventually he found himself on a familiar street. At this realization he paused, memories flooding through him despite their being unwanted. His defeat happened on this very street, and not far was the very park where he suffered the truth of being defeated.

Then he heard laughter as two children ran past him, the older brown-haired boy shouting, "Come on Soph! Mom said she's making pasta tonight!"

"Pasta, pasta!" Replied the younger girl with glee as she chased after the older boy, barely managing not to trip on her own feet.

Pitch's silvery-gold eyes followed the two as they ran up to the door of a house a few yards away, and he snarled faintly when he recognized them.

Jamie Bennet, as well as his younger sister Sophie.

He began to let anger seep into his mind, but a little inner voice invaded his thoughts. _Sure, you can get angry all you want, but they didn't_ see _you, did they? What can you do against children who don't really believe in you? Send them a Nightmare in your low and current state?_

The anger dissipated rather quickly after that. Still, Pitch waited until the sun was properly down until he traveled through the shadows into the Bennet house. He watched as young Sophie was put to bed before he went into Jamie's room. It looked like any average young boy's room, and said young boy was currently at a desk by the window, checking something.

"There's a story about Pitch online? Pippa can't be serious."

Pitch had been creeping up on Jamie, but his words shocked him into being deathly still. _What? A story, on me?_ He had to, reluctantly, agree with the boy as Jamie used the mouse to click the link in the email sent to him earlier that day. It brought him to the page where the supposed story was, titled _Remembrance_. Jamie, and Pitch, began to read the story.

Both finished at about the same time.

Both had different reactions.

"Wow," Jamie said, wiping the tears that began to form in his eyes. "That is a really good story. I feel bad for Pitch, and his daughter. Wonder what happened to her…"

Pitch had faded into the shadows until he was somewhere else in Burgess, far from the Bennet house. His right hand had fisted and was held over his heart. He was in shock, unused to the feelings he was currently feeling. Pitch could find no name for them. As he calmed down, he began to remember things. Memories of a Golden Age, a war, a young girl, and a _silver locket_.

Pitch growled and quietly said, "Who else would know those things, and who would _dare_ put them in a story for just anyone to see?" He felt an odd sense of betrayal, and his gaze wandered to the moon that was rising in the night sky. Pitch sneered.

"That was _your_ doing, wasn't it?"

There was no reply. Pitch was quite used to these one-sided conversations. After all, Man in Moon hadn't spoken to him since the Dark Ages. Not since the Guardians were just an idea over six hundred years ago.

"I see. Silent as ever then? No matter, I will find the writer of that fictional story…" He searched his mind for the name of the writer. His silvery-gold eyes shone a little when he remembered the name, and looked up at the moon again.

"FateMagician, was it? That writer is going to regret that they ever saw those memories, _my_ memories!"

With that, Pitch faded back into the shadows, starting his search for the writer that earned his ire.

* * *

Pitch Black, as promised ;)

Muse: Now, my little writer, you are in for a lot of trouble.

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DreamWorks owns Rise of the Guardians, William Joyce owns Guardians of Childhood, my Muse owns me.


	4. Confrontation At Last

Look at that, I updated on schedule again! *Throw confetti*

Muse: Nicely done, now tell them the bad news.

Yes... that... well you guys should know that I am writing an actual book (several in fact, this one being the first book in a companion set: two books per companion set, three total companion sets) and it's almost finished! Since I want to finish the book on the semi-deadline that I have for it, I will be uploading a new chapter on this story every other week. Don't worry, you'll get a new chapter next week, but then the new schedule commences after that.

Muse: Soapbox time!

I am very sad, and disappointed, in the lack of reviews for this story. Come 'on readers, I know you reacted to this story and I want to know what your reactions were (flames are frowned upon). Last I checked, I am not psychic and thus do not know your thoughts. I mean, really? How hard is it to click the review button and leave a little message?

Muse: Now that that's over, enjoy the latest chapter of the Escapades of a Writer and the King of Nightmares!

* * *

 **Escapades of a Writer and the King of Nightmares**

 **Chapter 4: Confrontation At Last**

It hadn't taken Pitch Black very long to discover the whereabouts of FateMagician. It did, however, take personal experience to discover the protective wards that surrounded the apartment.

 _So, this writer is a mage too?_ He thought as he rubbed his slightly cut bicep, the most recent injury from his most recent attempt to get inside the apartment. Pitch glared at the door and its surrounding shadows that seemed to mock him. They weren't going to be of help, and he wasn't used to the shadows not doing as he commanded. He decided to inspect the runes again, watching their silver color fade in and out.

Pitch was familiar with magic, though he never used it with the exception of the Binding Spell, but he hadn't used it for centuries, not since the Guardian's created charms that protected them from it. He snarled slightly at the thought of the Guardians, which was interrupted by light footsteps coming down the hall accompanied by the whistling of what he believed to be 'Misty Mountains'.

He quickly concealed himself in the shadows, and in time too as a young woman of average height, ragged dark-brown hair and grey eyes rimmed by black glasses turned the corner. She was wearing skinny jeans, knee-high brown boots, a red, brown, orange, and black flannel, and a black fur-lined hooded vest.

The young woman stopped at the door that he had not too long ago glared at, then took off over her shoulder a black satchel. Her right hand quickly pulled out a lanyard with selected a gold key, which she then inserted into keyhole of the warded door. The runes deactivated and she opened the door.

Pitch seized the opportunity and was a small shadow as he slipped inside before she closed the door. Once closed, the runes reactivated and Pitch was safely inside. He smirked at his victory before beginning his exploration of the apartment. It was nice, plenty of open concept and dark woods. The kitchen was just behind the main living area, elevated at least a foot higher, and then there was a hallway off to the left side that led to two doors on each side.

Overall, the entire space had been designed and furnished so it had the very comfortable feeling of being at _home_. So much so, that Pitch was nearly overwhelmed by the sensation after those observations. He then clenched his right hand into a fist and shook his head roughly, determined to see his anger vented out on the writer.

The said writer had now made it to the first door on the left, leaving it opened after she had entered. Pitch followed her inside, able to make note that every wall surface was a bookshelf before the door slammed shut behind him and silver runes spun around him.

"I knew you were coming Pitch Black, you never had the element of surprise."

His eyes shifted away from the runes and focused on the writer who spoke, replying with a hint of arrogance, "If you knew I was coming, why was I able to get inside so easily?"

The writer's sterling-grey eyes narrowed a little as she scoffed lightly, "I _let_ you in my home Nightmare King." She gestured to his burns marks on his hands and forearms. "My runes only rarely fail me, and that's usually because someone with a lot more power than I has messed with them. You don't have that much magic."

The beginnings of a snarl formed on his lips, but it died away and she snapped her fingers and the runes around him faded away. "What-What are doing?"

"I have no personal quarrel against you, so, I have no reason to keep you bound there. Besides," She allowed a small smirk on her features. "Those runes would have become very uncomfortable in ten minutes."

He could tell she wasn't lying, and that she wasn't telling the whole truth. Momentarily forgetting his anger about the story he asked, "How did you know that I was coming?"

"Because of the one-shot I wrote. I knew that it would get your attention and, in your anger, you would come after me at some point. My place is always protected anyway, so it wasn't too hard for me to add a trap or two."

She brushed past him and walked down the hallway, leaving Pitch in a state of confusion and with the lingering question of _why_ she did it, why she wrote that story. His keen intuition told him that it certainly wasn't done on a whim. He followed her into the main living area, finding her sunk into what could only be called a 'grandpa chair' and reading a rather nicely bound copy of _The Sketch-Book of Geoffrey Crayon_ by Washington Irving.

Pitch could respect that she read classic literature in her free time.

After another minute of silence, she said, "I'm going to guess that you already know my name, so just call me Fate." Pitch cocked his head slightly.

"Why 'Fate'?"

"Because 'FateMagician' is a bit of a mouthful apparently…" She grumbled. Pitch shifted in the shadows of the hallway, crossing his arms and then leaned against the wall that allowed Fate to remain in his line of sight. His eyes held suspicion as he asked, "Why did you write that story with my personal memories?"

Fate went noticeably still, eyes still on the pages of the open book in her hands. Pitch narrowed his eyes as he waited for her to answer. Silence, and then a soft sigh escaped her lips.

"Because I owed a favor to our mutual acquaintance who resides in the moon a favor, and that was only a part of what he asked of me."

If Pitch's jaw could drop to the floor like in cartoons, it would have. He was numb with shock. Disbelieving thoughts ran through his mind. _Why, why would_ he _ask a writer to write and share such a story? What would he gain from doing such a thing? He detests me, as his beloved Guardians have proven time and time again._ Those thoughts were then interrupted.

"Tsar Lunar also asked me to help you Pitch, though with what I only have a bit of vagueness to work with."

More shock was added to the current amount Pitch was feeling.

"But," Fate closed her book carefully and put it aside, focusing her grey eyes on him. "Even though I don't exactly know _how_ to help you, it wouldn't mean a thing if you don't want it."

At that, Pitch sneered. " _Why_ in all the universe would I _ever_ want your _help_?"

Fate mocked-sneered him back. "Because you want something, and before you answer it is not a new Dark Age. That is not what you truly want."

Pitch lowered his head a little and his silvery-gold eyes shined with an intensity. "And what is it that I _truly want_ , FateMagician?" Her sterling-grey eyes matched his intensity.

"I don't know what exactly happened, but it had something to do with what went down six-hundred years ago between you and the Guardians. Tsar Lunar asked me to help you in accordance to what happened. He hasn't told me, so I am to rely on you for the whole story. So," Fate crossed her right leg over her left, leaned back further into the chair, and then interlaced her fingers in front of her. Classic therapist position. "Mind telling me what happened six hundred years ago?"

"Nothing 'went down' as you so put it. It was so little of consequence that it is too trivial to even note."

"Then, if it is so trivial, why avoid telling me? I am here to help you Pitch Black, and I doubt anyone else will offer you that."

" _I don't need your help!_ " Pitch nearly shouted it, and with a final glare he faded back fully into the shadows. Fate sighed and picked up her book again, reading from where she left off earlier. She could wait for him to gain an understanding of the situation, and more importantly of himself. Patience was, after all, the first thing Ombric ever taught her the importance of.

* * *

Muse: Now write a review and make my writer's week.

* * *

DreamWorks owns Rise of the Guardians, William Joyce owns Guardians of Childhood, my Muse owns me.


	5. More Psychology Arises

Here we are, the next chapter, and as a reminder to those many review-forgetting readers who may or may not be following this story: New chapter every other week, so no new one next week, but the week after.

And a shout out to the newest follower of this story: **DaisyDavenport**! You have no idea how much it made my day when I saw the alert of a new follower!

* * *

 **The Escapades of a Writer and the King of Nightmares**

 **Chapter 5- More Psychology Arises**

The next morning found Fate standing still at the end of the hallway, who had found Pitch Black sitting in a chair in the living area. A full minute of complete silence passes before Pitch smirks.

"Afraid FateMagician?"

Her grey eyes narrowed slightly. "No, not that. More like… surprised. Why did you come back so soon?"

Pitch sighed and leaned further back into the chair. "You are the first person to see me in over two years." He cleared his throat a little, and his next words were quieter. "I was… I was…"

Fate shook her head, understanding what he was going to say next, and how hard it would be for him to admit that. Any big bad villain would be unwilling to admit a weakness. Letting out a tension-relieved sigh, Fate walked onwards to her kitchen with a mind to make breakfast. Pitch watched her with observant eyes, taking note of everything she did. Apparently, she was making pancakes, though added two tablespoons of honey into the mix. He asked her why, and she glanced up at him, maintaining her manual whisking speed.

"I added honey because a few years ago, I decided to change the recipe a bit, adding honey and a little less mix. The result was an essentially melt-in-your-mouth stack of thin pancakes."

Pitch looked more interested. "How did the original recipe change so dramatically from the usual 'big and fluffy'?"

"Less mix in comparison to the normal amount equals a larger water to mix ratio; a thinner pancake. Though I know that there's specific chemistry involved, I only know the result, being that the added honey makes for a more porous pancake."

"Porous?"

"There are more bubbles that pop and hold their crater shape."

"Ah."

Fate flipped over the pancakes and said with a small smile, "You want one?"

"No."

"Shame, you're missing out."

"Can't miss it if I've never known it."

"Sarcasm is an acceptable response."

Pitch just stared at her. "What?"

Fate, however, was now focused on putting the finished pancakes on a plate, garnishing with a thin square of butter, and drizzling syrup on top in an appealing pattern. Pitch had to admit, it looked very appetizing. After she sat down and took her first bite he asked, "How do you know magic?"

She swallowed before replying, "I guess I do owe you a memory of mine since I was privy to yours." Another bite and swallow. "I learned magic under Ombric, wizard and survivor of Atlantis."

Pitch suffered another metaphorical cartoon jaw-drop. "How do you know Ombric?"

"I met him during the darkest part of my past, and no I will not tell you why it was so terrible."

"Why not? I could just terrify you into telling me."

Fate looked up at him and raised an eyebrow skeptically. "For me to tell you such a thing requires a deep and mutual trust Pitch Black. Right now, that does not exist, and you do not intimidate me. I've faced far worse fears than whatever you can come up with."

Pitch leaned forward, the shadows darkening behind him. "Is that a challenge, mage?"

Fate whistled lowly and a dark shape launched at him, tackling him with enough force to knock the chair over with him in it. He hit his head against the hardwood floor and was disoriented for a few seconds. However, when he focused Pitch heard a soft, yet incredibly menacing growl. When his sight stabilized, he saw a dragon.

The Nightmare King went still. Even he knew not to mess with a dragon, nor even to underestimate one despite this one's smaller size. Black and brown scales, covered head to tail with silver runes, the dragon's silvery eyes watched him like a Secret Service Agent would a potential terrorist threat.

Yeah, Pitch's instincts yelled at him not to mess with this dragon.

"Consider that my 'challenge accepted' Pitch. That's Karer by the way, one of the few Mana Dragons still around."

Pitch carefully tiled his head so he could see Fate. "And why do you have a Mana Dragon?"

"Because he has been there for me since I was born, and has never left my side for anything. A true friend."

"Still a _Mana Dragon_. Do you even know what they do?"

"Generate their own mana well that can only be tapped into by their chosen _Drelaal Lahzey_?"

Pitch was about to retaliate before he was stopped by a sharp nip to his nose by Karer. He narrowed his eyes at the dragon, but saw that Karer held an aura of _knowing_. Pitch then wisely decided to remain silent. That same silence filled the room with its presence until Fate was finished with her pancakes.

She whistled lowly again and Karer leaped off Pitch's chest, who visibly relaxed and was quite thankful, and bounded to Fate and soon was draped across her shoulders. Pitch stood and lightly dusted off his shoulders before saying, "Why do you want to help me?"

"I am offering you help because I believe in what Tsar Lunar wants for you to have, a future where you have a true purpose." Her response was nonchalant in tone.

"And what exactly would be my true purpose FateMagician?"

She paused in rubbing the nose of the dragon and glanced at him. "You already know your true purpose Nightmare King."

"If I 'already know', then why would I be asking?"

Fate nodded he head a bit and murmured, "Sarcasm, still an acceptable response."

Pitch glared at her. "What is it with you and sarcasm?"

"Oh, it's not what you think. Just noting that you use sarcasm as a defense mechanism, to protect yourself from something you don't want to accept. If I told you what you already knew, it makes it easier for you to deny rather than accept something that changes your view of everything you once knew." Fate then fully looked at him, her gaze holding his in all seriousness. "You're afraid to face an epiphany, and the aftermath it would leave you in."

Now a very tense silence followed that statement, Pitch unable to reply and Fate having nothing more to say. Karer, uncomfortable and unhappy with the current atmosphere, nipped at Fate's ear to garner her attention. It worked, and Fate's gaze left Pitch's and she returned to rubbing the scale just above Karer's nose. The dragon purred, to Pitch's further shock, in his rising happiness.

Pitch turned to leave but was stopped by Fate saying, "You can visit anytime Pitch Black, the wards won't harm you if you hadn't already noticed. Well, they won't unless you try anything remotely resembling funny business."

She barely saw the small smile on Pitch's features before he disappeared into the shadows.

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Muse: Dragons, no matter the size or type, are never to be messed with. Pitch had every right to be extremely careful of Karer. You would too.

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DreamWorks owns Rise of the Guardians, William Joyce owns Guardians of Childhood, and my Muse owns me.


	6. An Unexpected Guest

I will admit it. I wrote this chapter today. Why? Because I kind of lost the heart for it for a little while. Why? Because despite ALL the views this story is getting, only ONE person reviewed! That's not a bad thing **Lazy Creativity** , it just makes you that much more awesome, cookies to you! (::) (::) (::)

Those extra two are because you also did a favorite and follow! This new, and LONGER THAN NORMAL, chapter is dedicated to you, simply because you told me your reaction to the story so far.

Muse: See people? It's not that hard to write a simple review.

Now then, enjoy the newest installation of The Escapades of a Writer and the King of Nightmares!

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 **The Escapades of a Writer and the King of Nightmares**

 **Chapter 6- An Unexpected Guest**

Two months rolled by after that, and Fate noticed the increasing frequency of Pitch's visits to her apartment. So far, things were going pretty well between the two of them and she was letting a little more hope into the idea that they would soon have a comfortable friendship. Building trust was a hard thing for both of them, and there were still a lot of unanswered questions.

Fate was reading in the big leather chair again, this time a copy of _The Count of Monte Cristo_ in her hands, when an unexpected guest arrived through the mirror.

"FateMagician! How have you been since I last see you?"

North's loud, booming voice invaded Fate's ears, startling her and making her jump in her seat. She grimaced a little and muttered, "I _really_ need to put a doorbell or something on that mirror…" The giant of a Guardian seemed to have heard that and gave a deep chuckle.

"Is that how you greet a friend? I think Ombric gets better reception."

Fate looked up at him with a sly smile. "Ombric lets me know in advance when he's coming over."

That made North laugh. "Well said. I ask again, how have you been?"

"I was sick a few months ago, but as you can see I'm doing quite well now."

"How are books coming along?"

Fate made a self-disappointed look. "Can't quite find the right 'screen-shot' of life to do for a couple chapters. I mean, what could be considered the most important moment of a child at the age of two, then three, then four, then five, then six?"

North gave a wide smile and said, "I have an idea, for all of them."

Fate raised an eyebrow, having a pretty good idea of what he was going to say, but she waved for him to go on.

"Christmas."

She sighed. _Yup, of course he would say 'Christmas'_. Fate then replied kindly, "I'll think about it, but what's the actual reason as to why you're here?"

North sobered immediately and said in a voice much quieter and much more serious than usual, "I believe something is wrong with Ombric." Fate sat up straighter immediately at the mention of her former mentor.

"How so?"

"He has been acting… older for lack of better word. Weaker in his movements, looks more sick."

"I didn't notice much of that when he last visited me, but much can change in a few months it seems." Fate rested her chin on a fisted hand before continuing. "Ombric _is_ old anyway, he spent much of his youth in Atlantis and it's where he learned magic."

"I agree wholeheartedly! But," North held his arms out as he said his next words. "As his former apprentices, I believe that we should keep an eye on him just in case. Find out what troubles him, and fix it."

Fate nodded. "I'll pay a visit to Santoff Clausen soon then. It'll be good be there again, if nothing but for the nostalgia of my apprenticeship."

"Good! I must go now, toys to create and Christmas next month!"

Fate waved a little before North disappeared into the mirror, and after the mirror settled into its normal smooth surface she relaxed back into the chair. The semblance of peace was shortly interrupted however, by a rather cold British tone.

"I didn't know you knew one of the Guardians."

Fate tilted her head back a bit and to the right, her sterling-grey eyes meeting Pitch Black's silvery-gold ones. She then mocked his tone as she replied, "So you knew about Ombric, but not North? Come now Nightmare King, the connection is rather obvious."

He raised an eyebrow skeptically. "How so?"

"I know North through Ombric, because he was Ombric's apprentice before I was. Where else do you think North learned his magic from? Tsar Lunar? Our mutual acquaintance in the moon doesn't use magic despite his understanding of it."

Pitch looked a little dumbstruck, and Fate sighed lightly. _Apparently, that's_ exactly _where he thought North learned magic from_. Silence returned briefly before Pitch asked, "So, do you know any of the other Guardians?"

"No, well, not really anyway. I don't visit often."

Pitch moved and then sat down in one of the chairs across from Fate. "And why not?"

"Don't usually have much of a reason too, unless I'm invited to some big event or I need to ask something of North or Ombric. Those two usually come and visit me. Overall, I'm not the kind of person that pulls random visits on people."

Pitch nodded and then asked, "What made you want to be a Rune Mage?"

Fate stiffened slightly, and Pitch definitely noticed but didn't comment. _It seems there's a rather personal reason attached to answering that question_. Pitch has been asking questions of Fate to see just what kind of person she was, and why she had the insane idea of helping him. But not with a new Dark Age, but with achieving his _true purpose_. He managed not to opened scoff at the notion, but instead paid attention to Fate's reply.

"If I'm going to tell you the reason why I became a Rune Mage, you have to tell me what happened six-hundred years ago."

Pitch's eyes widened a bit in shock. _What?!_

Fate let a little smirk show on her features. "That's right, 'an eye for an eye' as the saying goes. It's a big, and rather personal, question you asked. I want the same thing in return and I want the answer to the question I asked months ago."

She certainly had him there, no denying that, and it was a full five minutes before Pitch lowered his head in a nod of defeat. Satisfied with that, Fate told him the answer to his question.

"I became a Rune Mage so I could escape. My life before becoming Ombric's apprentice was dull, unexciting, and rarely intellectually challenging. I knew my family had a history with magic, particularly shamanism, and from there I learned everything I could on my own about the subject. What I learned was quite a bit, and soon I mastered dream projection of my spiritual form," she noticed Pitch's confused look and she elaborated.

"A sort of lucid dreaming, but much more powerful. Anyway, I accidentally found Ombric on one of those nights and since that first meeting I was his apprentice. He created a magical clone of me so during the summer I could stay at Santoff Clausen until school started up again. I finished my training as a Rune Mage under him after four years of this schedule."

"Only four years?" Pitch asked.

"My apprenticeship wasn't as broad as North's was."

"Ah."

"It's been two years since then, and I still do a lot of private study and research, even discovered a few things about runes that even Ombric didn't know about. Currently, I'm quite well known in the magical communities in Northern Europe and here in North America for my published works on Scandinavian runes and rune practice."

"Scandinavian runes?"

"The Elder and Younger Futhark runes mostly. Vikings in all honesty. I personally prefer the Elder Futhark runes."

Despite Pitch's obvious confusion on a few things, he looked satisfied with her answer. Of course, he noticed that Fate purposefully skipped something over, but he could tell that it was a fear she wasn't prepared to face. As the Boogeyman, he also knew what fear it was but he kept silent. Then Fate leaned forward and said, "Your turn, Nightmare King. What happened six-hundred years ago between you and the Guardians?"

He held her gaze apprehensively before letting out a deep sigh and leaning back into his seat. Pitch closed his eyes, collecting his thoughts before he spoke.

"You were right, something _did_ happen between me and Guardians six-hundred years ago. Back then, the Guardians were just forming, more of an idea really than the grand-scale operation it is today. In those days, there wasn't really a place for hope, wonder and good memories, so overall it looked like that idea of the 'Guardians' wouldn't last even a century. One day, I was asked to come to the North Pole to listen to this idea in more context. Admittedly, I was curious, so I went. My reception wasn't very welcoming, and only one person gave me what could be called a 'heartwarming welcome'. That was the first time I met North. We talked for a while on the subject of the Guardians and his hopes for it."

Pitch soon grimaced and his tone grew angrier as he went on. "Then he told me that himself, Toothiana, and the Sandman were chosen to be Guardians by Man in Moon. That struck a nerve, as I had been around longer than any of them by millennia, been in the presence of Man in Moon _much_ longer, but he had never spoken a word to me in all that time. A silent companion. Until then it seemed, and his words were not spoken to me, but to those _upstarts_. When North asked me to be a Guardian, I completely and utterly refused. I used the excuse that I didn't want my fate to be decided upon by children, but really I-"

He choked on his next words a little, strong emotion that apparently have been ignored for a long time now resurfacing. His pause lasted long moments before he continued. "But really, I wanted to be asked by the Man in Moon himself, not through a proxy. My pride had been wounded more deeply than I ever though it could, and since the moment I walked out of that half-constructed building I have been opposite them ever since."

Pitch lowered his head, unwilling to look at Fate now, who had leaned back into her big leather chair and closed her eyes and was now thinking Pitch's words over carefully. Now she knew, and soon she would have the answer as to what Tsar Lunar specifically wanted her to help Pitch Black with.

Pitch stood to leave, and he was hoping that he could leave without another word spoken between them. Fate had other ideas.

"Have you ever thought about what would have happened if you had accepted North's offer to be a Guardian?"

That stopped him cold, but he didn't say a word in response.

 _No, I don't think I ever did FateMagician._

With that thought spoken in his mind, Pitch faded into the nearest shadows.

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Muse: Remember, reviewers get cookies and dedications!

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DreamWorks owns Rise of the Guardians, William Joyce owns Guardians of Childhood, and my Muse owns me.


	7. A Question Answered

Hello my wonderful readers! I apologize of you weren't able to read the Hiatus Announcement thing, so I'll sum it up: This story is technically on hiatus as I am working on a novel and two book series. The novel is in its final stages of writing, one series is in outlining, and the second series in it its world-building stage.

Muse: Of course, my writer hasn't given up on this story, and on the odd day is still writing chapters for it. Albeit slowly.

My original stuff takes priority, but I'm still writing this and will see it through to the end! Also, welcome **Diana Fay** and **Shiori Kudo** , my newest followers!

Now prepare yourself for what I consider my best chapter so far!

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 **Escapades of a Writer and the King of Nightmares**

 **Chapter 7- A Question Answered**

The next time FateMagician saw Pitch was when she was finishing up the last bit of a certain part of her novel. Pitch had the luck of showing up in her living area just as she began to celebrate the completion of that part.

"I did it! I finally did it! It took eight months and three days, but I still finished it!"

Karer was in an excitable mood as well, his runes shining brightly and he tackled Fate to the ground. He attacked her by licking all over her face before it eventually died down to nuzzling underneath her chin. Fate was smiling the brightest Pitch had ever seen her smile. He then leaned against the closest wall, letting a much smaller smile grace his features. Her smile was contagious apparently. He then finally asked, "Finished what?"

The dramatic revelry stopped, and Pitch though it was his fault. However the grin that Fate had did not leave and both she and Karer looked over at him at the same time, and she replied, "The first part out of two of my novel! I finally finished it!"

Pitch gave a single nod. "You've talked about it, a lot, when I visit. How long do you think it will be before you finish the second part?"

Fate stood up, Karer draping himself across her shoulders as per usual. "I guess maybe a few months, though not nearly as long as it took to write the first part. More pre-plotting has gone into this one, whereas with the previous one I just kind of pantsed it."

Pitch raised an eyebrow slightly. "'Pantsed' it?"

"Writer slang for Discovery Plotting, which pretty much means I develop a plot as I write. Not much, if any, plotting down on paper. Though, I did do some of that during the last third of writing the first part." Fate shrugged faintly. "I had writer's block at that point."

He nodded, and then he remembered why he had originally come. Pitch's demeanor became serious, and Fate picked up on it, taking a seat and adopted her therapist position. "What's up?"

Pitch remained standing however, and deeply sighed before replying, "I have thoughts over what you have said to me over the past months of our… companionship." Oh no, they weren't friends yet, but at least she wasn't an enemy. "Admittedly, your words had me thinking things I never would have imagined I would be thinking."

He paused, and Fate lightly gestured for him to continue.

"What if I were to say that I wanted your help?"

Fate gave a small smile, and said, "Then I would ask what you wanted my help for."

Pitch looked to be struggling with something, something internal. She had the feeling that it was an emotional war within himself that he had been fighting for moon knows how long now. Fate now thought it time for that war to end, but she could only help him if Pitch asked her for it. Eventually, the struggle seemed to die down, and Pitch's voice was a little hoarse.

"I want your help to help me find where I belong."

Those words tugged at Fate's heartstrings, and she softly asked, "And where do you want to belong Pitch Black?"

"In a…" He choked a bit on his words, but recovered. "In a _family_."

At that Fate was pretty much done for, and near instantly she was hugging the Nightmare King. Pitch went stock-still at the sudden change of the situation, but then decided to just go with it, though he didn't hug her back. Big bad boogeymen didn't hug. He simply patted her shoulder, and Fate chuckled a bit.

"You are making this hug awkward."

"Then you know my feelings exactly."

Laughing a bit more, Fate pulled back and shook her head lightly. "Well, that doesn't matter anyway. But," She looked straight into his silvery-gold eyes with her grey ones, and said in all seriousness, "Pitch Black, I will help you find where you belong. I will help you find a family."

For the first time since she met him, Fate saw Pitch give her a genuine, and hopeful smile.

Later that night, after Pitch had left, FateMagician was once again in her office and the blackout curtains were fully pulled aside, revealing a brilliant night sky and a full moon. Fate leaned back in her very comfortable office chair, hands behind her head, as she stared at the moon. After a full minute of silence, she said, "Pitch has finally asked for my help, and as I promised, he has it."

The moon glowed very brightly, and Fate couldn't help but smile just as brightly. "I know, and now comes what is probably going to be the most difficult part of this _adventure_." She laughed a bit at her choice of word before continuing. "He wants to belong somewhere Tsar Lunar. Pitch wants a family and I know he is aware of the one he lost so long ago. Maybe not remember fully, but aware all the same." Then she looked down, adding more softly, "We are not so different, he and I."

Soft moonlight fell over her, and she looked up at the full moon and gave a small smile with traces of sadness from a long time ago. "I understand him in that regard, and I want to truly help him now that I do understand him much better than I did before. I found where I belong, I want him to find his place in our world."

Then a though crossed her mind, and she said, "I have something I need to ask of you concerning Pitch."

The moon brightened faintly, and Fate explained. "I understand Pitch better now, yes, but you know I don't fully understand why _you_ want me to help him, but by answering this single question I may finally understand why _you_ want Pitch to be helped. We both know that he hasn't given anyone much of a reason to help him in the first place." The moon shadowed, though it was barely noticeable.

"I know he wasn't always a villain, and I know he was tricked by the Fearlings in the prison when he was still the hero that was Kozmotis Pitchner. I understand his past, but I want to understand the future you have planned for him. I all request of you is to answer one, simple question."

The moon then brightened considerably at her words, and she felt encouraged to ask her question of him. Fate took a deep breath before asking calmly, "Did you want Pitch to accept the offer he was given so long ago?"

The was no reaction from Tsar Lunar for several minutes, but then moonbeams danced across the dark wood of her desk and a series of images flashed before her eyes. Fate was attentive and quickly understood each one. After the moonbeams faded away, Fate sunk deeper into her chair, processing this grand revelation.

"You wanted Pitch Black to become a Guardian, the Guardian of Fear… And you still want him too."

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Muse: Please review!

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DreamWorks owns Rise of the Guardians, William Joyce owns Guardians of Childhood, and my Muse owns me.


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